Rabbit in the Headlights
by Ansy Pansy aka Panz
Summary: Another Kandy meeting at Berkeley story that I’ve had hanging around since December lol! Finally got my act together and finished it! Gonna be several chapters! CHAPTER 8 UP!
1. Chapter 1

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Summary: **Another Kandy-meeting-at-Berkeley story that I've had hanging around since December lol! Finally got my act together and finished it!

**Disclaimer: -.-. ... .- .-. .- -.-. - . .-. ... / -. --- - / -- .. -. . --..-- / ... - --- .-. -.-- / .. ... **(It's in Morse)

This chapter is for Sunny because of how mean the unis are being to her. hugs

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Because if I wrote my life rather than whatever does, that night would have gone something like this!

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Evidently, Sandy Cohen had re-formed the Headlights.

Kirsten had no idea what that meant but clearly she was destined to find out; her roommate was forcing her out of their cosy dorm-room and out into the cold December night all because some guy named Sandy had revived the Berkeley College Comic Theatre Company, in other words, the Headlights.

She'd never heard of this Sandy person and she didn't particularly relish the idea of sitting in a freezing hall while college kids tried to come up with jokes that wouldn't upset the faculty. But Hannah was obviously bored of the Saturday night ritual they'd been perfecting since they'd both been dumped by their respective boyfriends; fresh margs, self-pity and a soppy romantic movie.

It would do her good to get out, Kirsten reflected. She'd been very anti-social since Jimmy fucking Cooper had kindly phoned to let her know he couldn't make it that weekend, no it wasn't a soccer game; actually he was getting married.

She shook the thoughts from her head as they arrived outside the old hall.

-----

'It's freezing in here,' Kirsten moaned as they filed into the hall.

'God I hate this type of chair,' she complained, wriggling about on the hard plastic seat.

'Don't you think places like this have a really weird smell? It's so gross.'

Hannah sighed exasperatedly. 'Are you gonna moan all evening?'

'You didn't _have_ to bring me.'

'I was _trying_ to lift you out of the throes of depression. Don't blame me for wanting to do something other than mope.'

'I don't mope, I seethe, there's a difference.'

Her roommate looked highly sceptical. 'Well whatever it is you're certainly not getting over Jimmy.'

'I _am_ over him.'

'Right, that's why you haven't been on a date since he ditched you.'

'We. Broke. Up.'

'Whatever. We should be enjoying being single, going out, getting wasted, seeing how many guys' numbers we can get in one night.'

'But I don't _want_ to be single.'

'Yeah you do Kirsten, we could have a competition. You know Liv King; lives on the floor above? She had five guys in three nights. Think we can beat her?'

'Ew Hannah, please!'

'Come on, live a little.'

'Yeah, live a little, die of syphilis by the time you're twenty-one. Unlike some people I actually want to graduate without an STD.'

'Oh, so you just want to be boring, get another steady boyfriend. That is so lame.'

'What is lame is that they haven't started the show already. I thought it was curtain up at eight?'

'It's only eight ten.'

Kirsten gave an irritated harrumph and shifted in her seat, crossing her legs first one way then the other and folding her arms across her chest.

'You are so impatient,' Hannah observed with a giggle.'

'I just like things to start on time.'

'It's a college show Kirsten, not a military coup. You gotta lighten up, stop being so anally retentive. It can't be doing your blood pressure any good,' her roommate declared in a singsong voice which made Kirsten grit her teeth in annoyance.

'My blood pressure is _fine_.'

'How about we play I Spy…the hottest guy?'

'Could we get any more high school?'

'Probably. Oooh check out the dude in the front row. Nice biceps! I love California; where else do you get to see upper arm muscles in December?'

Kirsten rolled her eyes, glancing around the hall as Hannah began to rate each of the guys in the vicinity. It was a full house with all the rows full and more students standing at the back and resting against the walls. At the front Kirsten could see a small raised stage, mostly obscured with curtains, an alcove containing several instruments and a door which led backstage. Every so often this door would open and she could see the hive of activity, or rather something more akin to chaos, going on behind it. From what she could see, a guy with an unruly shock of black hair was apparently in charge, rushing about onstage, offstage and backstage, checking set and answering questions, often causing laughter as he responded.

She glanced at her watch; eight fifteen.

Turning to Hannah she found her flirting shamelessly with a group of guys in the row behind. With a sigh she went back to watching the activity around her, or, if she was honest, watching out for someone in particular. A couple of people were now sat in the alcove tuning up their instruments, that was a good sign. The guy in charge was talking to them hurriedly, gesticulating wildly with his arms. Kirsten could see broad black eyebrows moving too and had to smother a smile.

'That's Sandy Cohen,' she heard somebody say as he dashed past her up the aisle. 'He's the director.'

Sandy Cohen. Kirsten wondered if knowing his name was a mixed blessing.

He hurried past again, nodded at the band and disappeared through the door. A moment later the musicians struck up. Kirsten glanced at her watch as the lights cut out rather than dimmed, eight twenty-five. The last ten minutes had disappeared quite enjoyably.

She flushed inwardly at the thought. She didn't even know this guy, the realisation that she kinda liked him catching her by surprise. It felt awkward, foreign; she hadn't fallen for anyone in a very long time and certainly not this fast.

Sandy and another guy appeared at the front of the stage and Kirsten had her first proper look at him. He was wearing a green shirt, a blue suit that looked like it might belong to the guy next to him and a wide smile.

'Good evening Berkeley! Hello and apologies for the wait. I'm Paul Glass and this is Sandy Cohen.' There was a roar of laughter and the guy looked confused for a moment before laughing himself. 'Oh God. I mean, _I'm_ Sandy Cohen and _this_ is Paul Glass! You know I've done that twice now and twice out of three shows is kinda worrying…'

At this point Paul grabbed the mike out of Sandy's hand and began talking. 'I do apologise for him; he has some kind of obsessive talking disorder,'

Sandy leant his head towards the microphone, 'I'm loquacious.' Paul shoved him out of the way.

'Anyway! What I'm really trying to say is that we will be your MCs for this evening as well as popping up on stage every now and then for your entertainment.'

'And what Paul didn't say, because _I_ was meant to say it before he rudely interrupted, is welcome to the first show of the recently re-formed Headlights, otherwise known as the Berkeley College Comic Theatre Company which was just too much of a mouth full for anyone other than myself to say so we had to change the name. Most of us have been part of other theatrical events at Berkeley but we decided we wanted something slightly less camp, a lot less serious and a whole lot more fun. I hope you enjoy the show.'

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I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank Em for the fact it's finally being done! It's almost all written – all except the next chapter (typical, I never have chapter 2!) But if you review I will work very hard so you can have it all as soon as possible. How's that?


	2. Chapter 2

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer: **Evidently biscuits are addictive because of their crunchiness. Oops, that's not a disclaimer…I mean I do not own the O.C. – come on, if I did I would take everything all of you say to heart and there would be no Johnny and loads of Kandy!

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This chapter is for Em because it's mostly down to her that I've been so productive these hols…now if only she could have the same effect on my revision. Thanks for this and for everything hun!

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As outlined in the programme, the show was a real mix of things, with Sandy and Paul cracking jokes and mocking each other between scenes.

First up was stand up comedy.

'Just be glad we didn't let Sandy in on this act; you'd all be here till Christmas,' Paul joked. 'Instead we have some of Berkeley's finest, most concise comedians,' he reeled off a list of names while Sandy pretended to sulk.

…

Comic sketches.

To Kirsten's delight Sandy appeared on stage for most of these and soon had everyone in fits of laughter. She watched, tears running down her cheeks, impressed at his comic timing and expressive face. It was the eyebrows that did it, she was sure, they almost stole the show! In the last sketch he didn't have to do anything except pretend to sleep and quirk one of the said eyebrows at the opportune moment. As he waited he scanned the audience through his eyelashes, his eyes drawn from a group of guys that were in his law class to the girl sat in front of them, her face creased into a genuine smile, blonde hair shaking into her face as she laughed. He wondered what colour her eyes were and immediately wondered why he was wondering that. It made him almost miss his cue meaning that most of the audience were unprepared for his subtle addition to the proceedings. This girl however, must have been watching him closely; Sandy saw her laugh before anyone else and then smother it, her porcelain skin flooding with colour. So he winked at her causing her to first glance around to see who he meant and then flush a deeper shade of red.

…

A short pantomime.

Paul and Sandy drew the curtains again so a little set change could take place and began to introduce the next item, 'Now we all wanted our director here to step up and take the part of the dame in our little panto but for some reason he declined.'

'Unlike some people,' Sandy inclined his head towards his friend, 'I'm not into cross dressing.'

'Really? Because you are wearing my suit.'

Kirsten managed to catch herself before she said 'I knew it,' out loud.

'Shouldn't you be getting your makeup done?' Sandy retorted. 'Not that you need a lot for playing the ugly sister.'

Paul laughed. 'Thanks man, that really got me here,' he indicated to his chest. 'On that note, on with the show!'

…

And most bizarrely, a parody of a medley of songs from _Les Miserables_.

'Now I understand this last item may seem a little random…' Sandy began before Paul swiped the mike again. 'But to cut a long story short, a lot of us were in the musical last year and we couldn't resist having a little play around.'

It was a pretty random way to finish the show but Kirsten couldn't deny that she enjoyed it. The changed lyrics were witty and Sandy appeared in several numbers as the lead, Jean Valjean. He was handsome, he was funny, he could act _and_ he could sing, Kirsten sighed, of course he would either be a complete asshole or have a girlfriend, or probably both. Still, she couldn't help watching him; make the most of the opportunity and enjoy his voice.

Kirsten glanced around, suddenly worried that someone might have noticed the rapt attention she was lavishing on Sandy Cohen. There was no one looking at her strangely so she turned back to the stage, knowing it was just her imagination making her think he was singing straight to her and wishing it wasn't.

He knew it wasn't good stagecraft to focus on one person and he was trying not to but his eye kept being drawn back to the girl in the fifth row. He was flattering himself but he liked to think she was watching him. His excuse for singing solely to her for most of the songs was that you were meant to engage the audience and as far as he could tell, she was the most engaged.

Thanks to a clever key change the last song merged into 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' with the whole company joining in. As they finished off Sandy regained possession of the microphone, 'Now, for the grand finale we'd like you all to join us in a song.'

There were a series of groans from the audience.

'I know, I know but we're gonna do it anyway. You'll find the words on the back of your programme, if of course you weren't too tight to buy one.'

Kirsten flipped over her programme to find the lyrics of 'I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas,' and shared an amused glance with Hannah. White Christmas? Because they knew so much about those.

'Of course,' Sandy continued, 'I realise this is a pretty stupid song to be singing in North California and for me, seeing as I'm Jewish but never mind, hopefully enough of you know what I'm talking about…you know; frosty breath, red noses, crisp snow crunching under your feet, snowflakes drifting down, that wintry feel in the air…' Sandy's ramble was drowned out by the band who had started to play and everyone began singing to varying degrees of accuracy but with goodwill. Paul reached for a cord at the side of the stage and tugged it sharply, causing a sheet pinned to the ceiling to release its load of paper snowflakes, most of them falling directly onto Sandy who was stood centre stage. He laughed, shaking his head vigorously to dislodge the flakes and blowing them out of his mouth. The song came to an end and Sandy refused to yield the mike to Paul after 'that dirty trick'. 'Thanks for coming everyone and happy holidays,' he declared before scooping up a pile of 'snowflakes' and pitching them over Paul's head. An impromptu snow fight broke out amongst the cast as the audience applauded. Their friends in the audience quickly joined in, the rest coming under attack as the madness spilled out from the stage and into the hall. The crowds began to disperse, trying to escape from the paper flakes coming their way. Kirsten watched with amusement as Paul and Sandy rounded the girl who had sung the part of Eponine in the _Les Miserables_ skit, chasing her down the aisle. She dived into the row behind Kirsten, begging the guys there to protect her. Paul however was merciless, tossing the contents of his hands over her and her guardians. Sandy noticed Kirsten laughing and grinned mischievously. A second later she found herself lost in a flurry of white.

He wondered whether to make a run for it but then he heard her laughing. Her laugh was as pretty as her smile. She looked up at him, the feigned frown lost in her laughter and he shrugged; he just hadn't been able to resist. Sandy was about to introduce himself when a familiar hand clapped him on the shoulder.

'Hello Sanford, cracking show, if a somewhat immature ending,' the voice was teasing; it was his favourite professor and he had to let himself be drawn away for more congratulation. He cast an apologetic glance over his shoulder but Kirsten wasn't looking. She dropped her head in disappointment, picking the scraps of paper off her coat and out of her hair whilst the regained her composure. It was just a moment that was all. One of those things that happen between people once. But she couldn't help feeling they'd been having them all night. Brusquely lifting her head, she tried and failed to get Hannah's attention by simply saying her name. Her roommate was occupied making eyes at one of the band members.

'Could you _be_ any less subtle?' she muttered.

'I'm not _trying_ to be subtle,' Hannah retorted, startling Kirsten who didn't think she'd heard her. 'What is the point of being subtle? It means you get what you want half as fast.'

'Right, interesting logic there.'

'Well, are we leaving or not? I thought you hated these chairs, I'm surprised you're sitting in them a minute longer than necessary.'

Kirsten had forgotten all about the uncomfortable chairs.

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Please review! It's all finished now so all I gotta do is post it. You know what you have to do for that to happen!


	3. Chapter 3

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer:** I want my cat back…oh…sorry. Here we are again! Der OC gehört mir nicht aber dieser fic macht!

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This chapter is for Carlie because we haven't chatted in a while and she's had evil things like internals. Thinking of you! I had bran flakes today!

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'I gotta pee,' her roommate declared, rather too loudly for Kirsten's liking, as they began to head for the exit. She sighed and leant back against the wall to wait, her eyes soon sought out Sandy in the crowd of congratulatory people near the stage, wondering if she dared go congratulate him herself. At that moment Sandy glanced up and caught Kirsten's eye, she smiled shyly and looked away; embarrassed that he'd seen her watching him. A moment later there was a low 'Hey,' at her side and she blushed to find him standing next to her.

'Um…hi,' she stammered, kicking herself. 'Tonight was great by the way.'

'Thanks,' he said, grinning, 'glad you enjoyed it.'

'So are you majoring in Theatre Arts?'

He gave a laugh, his blue eyes twinkling, 'No, law actually. But I think they go together don't you?'

She nodded, inwardly groaning at the giggle that had just escaped her mouth.

'What about you?' he was asking, 'What's your major?'

'I…um…haven't decided yet. I'm doing Art History, World Lit, Class Civ, Business, Economics, Graphics and Art.'

'Freshman?'

'Yeah, you?'

'I'm an ancient grad student; first year of law school, working towards the Bar so I don't have to work behind it.' He laughed at his own joke, Kirsten joining it absently, her heart sinking. A grad? There was no way he'd be interested in her.

'I should…go,' she said, 'thanks for the show.'

'Wait…' he said as she turned away, 'um…I don't know your name but…'

'Kirsten,' she told him, 'Kirsten Nichol.'

'Sandy, Sandy Cohen. My name's Sanford Cohen but everyone just calls me Sandy. Ok it's kind of a girly name but it's better than Sanford; that's my full name. I just told you that...' He shut up suddenly, realising he was rambling.

'Well…Sandy, it was nice to meet you.'

'Same here. So we're um…having a party; last night of the show you know, do you fancy coming along?'

Kirsten bit her lip, 'Well, it's for the cast isn't it? I don't want to gatecrash.'

'Nah not exactly and most people will be too drunk to notice anyway. In fact, I bet you within the hour someone will have congratulated you on your performance.'

'You do, do you? And do you often gamble with strange girls?'

'Only when they're as pretty as you,' he teased and she reached out to bat him playfully. 'Sandy?' the Eponine girl yelled from across the hall, 'Where does...?' the rest was unintelligible. He turned to her, 'I'll be right back.'

Kirsten watched as he jogged through the hall towards her, a striking girl with a good singing voice. She glanced at her programme and figured out she was Rosemary Richards. Where was Hannah? The queue for the bathroom couldn't be _that_ long! She scanned the room but couldn't see her. The crowds that had filled the small hall were dispersing out the door and the cast and stage hands were now efficiently stacking the chairs away. Sandy was still talking to the girl who had thrust a broom at him, obviously demanding he sweep the floor and stage which was littered with paper 'snowflakes'. They were both laughing when Rosemary reached up to pick a stray bit of white paper from his hair, her fingers lingering as she brushed through the dark curls. Kirsten looked away from the intimate moment, not seeing Sandy jokingly fend the girl off with his broom and hurry back towards her.

'Sorry, I'm meant to be tidying up; the joys of being an amateur director.'

Kirsten smiled, well aware of Rosemary's eyes on them, she could tell the older girl was just stopping herself casting a dirty look at her.

'I should let you get on,' she said quickly.

'But you'll come to the after-party?'

'Well I came with my roommate so I should probably check with her…'

'She's welcome too.'

'Are you sure? I mean…I don't want to cause any problems,' she glanced towards the girl who was now brushing the floor vigorously.

'How do you mean?' Sandy asked, his bushy eyebrows drawn together in confusion before realisation dawned on his face, 'You mean…?'

She'd put her foot in it now so she may as well continue, 'Well, I don't think I'd be too pleased if my boyfriend invited two random girls to a private party.'

'Oh me and Rosie, we're not…I'm not saying we haven't, well, you know. But we're not…together or anything.'

Kirsten gave a silent sigh of relief, blushing again. 'Sorry.'

'No worries. So how about you, didn't bring your boyfriend along tonight?'

She grinned at that, despite the slight pang she felt whenever she thought of Jimmy, he was _so_ chatting her up. 'I don't have a boyfriend. I _did_ and then he got _married_,' she added bitterly. Sandy was frowning again and she quickly apologised, 'Sorry, it's kind of a long story, it doesn't matter.'

'Maybe you can tell me tonight,' he said, giving her directions to the party. 'We should be done here in about twenty minutes so see you there.'

'Ok,' she agreed.

'Now I really _must_ do some sweeping!'

He grinned at her and walked away, whistling as he pushed the brush across the floorboards. Kirsten was still stood watching him, a slightly dreamy expression in her eyes when Hannah appeared.

'Kirsten? _Kirsten_?'

'Wh-what?'

'Earth to Kirsten,' her roommate teased.

'Where have you _been_?' she asked, 'You've been gone for ages.'

'As if you'd noticed,' Hannah said laughing, 'you were too busy chatting up Sandy Cohen.'

'I was not! Anyway, what were _you_ doing?'

'Deflection Kirsten, I see right through what you're doing; deflection and denial; you've got it bad.'

Her roommate just looked at her pointedly and Hannah relented, 'Fine, fine, well there was such a long queue for the bathroom that I snuck backstage to use the one there and when I came out who should be waiting outside but the really hot dude that played the guitar!'

'Mmmhmm,' Kirsten responded, realising she had no idea who this mystery guitarist was. In fact she wasn't sure she remembered much about the entire show, she'd been rather focussed on one member of the cast.

'Totally _mmmhmm_,' Hannah agreed, 'he is so tasty.

Kirsten fought the urge to tell her roommate not to say 'tasty' (it just sounded so wrong) and continued to listen to her breathless speech.

'Jason…or was it Jamie…no…it was something more exciting…I dunno, well he invited me to the cast party so we can _get to_ _know_ each other better.'

The innuendo was obvious and Kirsten laughed. 'Well you have fun…be safe.'

Hannah stuck out her tongue, 'You're coming with Kirsten, I'm sure J-whatever has a lot of _eligible _friends, if you know what I mean.'

'I think I'll pass on that one, thanks,' Kirsten said, continuing as her friend began to protest, 'but I'll come; Sandy already invited me.'

'Score!'

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Hope you're enjoying it. Don't worry – there are about another 4 chapters to go!

Please review!

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	4. Chapter 4

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer: **Is it wrong to still have the Harry Potter pants you had when you were 13? Ahem…Fidare me di, desidero che l'ho posseduto ma faccio non!

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This chapter is for Didi because she cracks me up. How is dear Kevin?

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'You know I really think you should have double-checked his name before leaving,' Kirsten chastised as they headed back to their apartment; the party was only a few blocks away from there and Hannah insisted she needed to change into something 'easier to get out of'. 'What if someone asks who invited you?'

'Kirsten, it's a college party. Everyone is gonna be too smashed to ask and it's not like are gonna be bouncers on the door,' Hannah declared, eyeing her friend suspiciously. 'You must have some weird as parties back home.'

'Yeah,' Kirsten mumbled in reply, fishing her key out of her purse as they reached their dorm, 'just hurry up and get changed.'

'You not sprucing yourself up?' her roommate asked.

'Um…no.'

'Why not?' she pestered, tugging on a dress that left very little to the imagination.

'Because that would be weird.'

'As if he's gonna know.'

'Who?'

'Stop acting coy Kirsten. You had your coat on the entire time; it's not like he knows what's underneath. At least put on something nice.'

'And by that you mean something worth taking off and ending up on the floor.'

'If you like, just not that boring sweater.' By this time she was rummaging in their wardrobe.

'But it's cold.'

Hannah rolled her eyes, 'Orange County girls have no concept of real cold. Here.' She brandished a top at Kirsten, narrowing her eyes at the blonde girl's look of doubt.

'No way.'

'Yes way. Change. Now.'

'I don't see what's wrong with my sweater.'

'It has _snowflakes_ on Kirsten.'

'It's seasonal.'

'It's from a _thrift store_.'

'Some of us don't still have an allowance. Anyway, you said the blue brought out my eyes.'

'It does, it's just…patterned sweaters aren't exactly standard wear for getting laid.'

'I wasn't _planning _on getting _laid_,' Kirsten answered, red in the face.

'Fine. Well at least brush you hair and put on some makeup or I'll leave without you.'

Not relishing the idea of walking to the party alone and wanting to see Sandy again, Kirsten complied.

They were only thirty minutes late.

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It was easy to locate the party; it was at the only house on the block with a beer keg on the lawn, music blaring and the sounds of shrieking and laughter. They had barely stepped into the dark hallway when a tall, spiky-haired guy slung an arm around Kirsten's shoulder.

'Hey gorgeous. You. Me. Whipped Cream. Handcuffs. Any questions?'

Kirsten choked and shrank away from the stranger who then caught sight of her face.

'Oh shit. Sorry, wrong girl.' The guy turned to Hannah, 'Hey babe, same question to you.'

'Hi, sounds great. This is Kirsten by the way.'

'Oh hi Kirsten. Sorry about that. I'm Joaquin.'

'Nice to…uh…meet you.'

'I'm gonna grab us some drinks, be right back.'

'Joaquin?' Kirsten whispered.

'Hot huh?'

'Um.'

'I know! Well I'll see you later,' Hannah said, winking as Joaquin returned, took her hand and lead her towards the stairs.

Kirsten sighed and leant against the wall. Great, now she was alone at a party where she didn't know anyone. She scanned the crowds of people for Sandy but couldn't see the trademark eyebrows anywhere. She heard raucous laughter from the next room and edged towards the doorway to see what was going on. Her eye fell on a haphazard group of people who seemed to have amassed most the furniture from the house into a circle and were sat drinking, smoking, cracking jokes and passing round a joint in what appeared to be a soda can. She caught sight of Sandy at the centre of the group, sprawled on a sofa and obviously holding forth about something by the way his hands were flapping as he talked. Despite the laughter it looked like quite a heated debate. What was she doing here? A stranger in the midst of all his highly talkative and opinionated friends.

He glanced up and saw Kirsten resting against the doorframe, looking like she was about to bolt. He gave a 100 megawatt grin and saw her smile in return, relief flooding across her features.

'Anyone want another beer?' he asked the group around him, standing up amidst a chorus of requests and approaching Kirsten.

'You came,' he said, mentally berating himself for stating the obvious. 'Didn't think you'd show.'

'Sorry I'm late; my roommate wanted to get changed first.'

'No worries. So where is she?'

'She's uh…' Kirsten hesitated, trying not to blush. '…upstairs with some guy called Joaquin.'

Sandy laughed, 'Well that's Joey for you; as forward as they come. Some of us however, at least make a pretence at being gentlemen. Can I take you coat?'

'Thanks.'

'Nice sweater.'

Kirsten blushed and handed him his coat, smiling as he looked about for somewhere to put it before sheepishly draping it over a nearby chair. 'Um, would you like a drink?'

'Sure, thanks.'

'Yeah and we would too Sandy,' someone hollered from the couch, 'stop flirting and bring us the beer.'

'Oy,' he yelled back threateningly but ducked his head shamefaced at Kirsten. 'Sorry.'

'It's okay.'

A couple of minutes later Kirsten was squashed on the couch between Sandy and some guy named Ben who kept breaking off the conversation to make out with the girl sat on his lap. Rosie was sat opposite; Kirsten gave her a small smile and got a sideways glance in response. She swallowed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She was grateful when Ben began questioning her.

'So Kirsten, freshman right?'

'Uh yeah.'

'You living in halls?'

Kirsten nodded, 'Hartley Court.'

A series of knowing 'oohs' rose up from the group followed by a little laughter.

'How is that?' someone asked.

'It's…it's…' Kirsten fished around for an apt description.

'A dump?' someone else offered.

'Pretty much,' she agreed, 'but it could be worse. Berkeley's pretty good as far as accommodation goes isn't it?'

There was a general consensus.

'Hartley's a shit-hole though; you got the short straw being in there,' the guy currently taking a turn with the 'soda-can' declared.

'But it's a load of fun;' his neighbour said, punching his arm, 'less trouble if you trash stuff. Do you remember the time when…'

Kirsten tuned out as she noticed Sandy watching her; she met his eyes and smiled shyly before turning back to the conversation in time for the punch line. Something to do with a giant water fight ending in an entire corridor being flooded and evacuated. She laughed along with everyone but was well aware of the cold stare that had issued from Rosie's direction as Sandy had smiled at her. Oh dear.

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Another girl with a name beginning with R! Is Rosie gonna ruin everything before it's even started?'

Please review!

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	5. Chapter 5

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer: **I once swallowed a marble…'r chymeriadau ydy Josh's mo chloddia.

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This chapter is for Mischie because she isn't allowed to read this yet and that is very sweet of her!

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'So where are you from then Kirsten?' asked the girl on Ben's lap. 'I'm Karen by the way.'

'I'm from Southern California.'

'Where?' That was Rosie.

'Uh…Newport.'

No one else appeared to blink but Rosie had narrowed her eyes.

'So what's Berkeley like after living in Newport…Beach was it?'

'It's great. I really love it here…' Kirsten's treatise on her love of Berkeley was cut short by Sandy.

'You lived at the beach? Did you surf?'

'Beach yes, surfing no. It's a great place for it though.'

A lively debate on surfing spots began and Kirsten sighed with relief. However Rosie wasn't letting her get away that easily.

'So, you not finding Hartley Court a little…difficult after Newport?'

It was Kirsten's turn to narrow her eyes. This girl didn't know anything about her, she was stereotyping her and that was something Kirsten hated.

'Actually,' she replied, her tone icy, 'I seem to be coping alright thanks.'

The older girl gave a half-smile half-sneer as she stood up, 'Just as well; Sandy lives in a mail truck.'

Sandy had turned his attention back to Kirsten at that moment and was surprised to see her looking intrigued rather than disgusted.

'Really?'

He nodded.

'Wow, so where do you park it?'

'Usually outside the gym…not far to the showers,' he explained.

Kirsten laughed. 'How big is it? Does it still have US Post on the outside? Do you have a special license?'

'Whoa! Too many questions,' Sandy joked. 'You'll have to come see it sometime, I mean if you're really that interested…'

'Well…if you don't mind?'

'Not at all.'

Sandy was just trying to figure out how he could turn it into a date when there was a shout from the other room. Several of the chairs nearby were quickly vacated.

'Pizza's arrived,' Sandy explained to the puzzled-looking Kirsten. 'Yes it really does cause that much excitement!'

Apparently it did; the scavengers returned with woops and cheers and deposited a pile of pizza boxes in the centre of the circle. Someone else brought a crate of beer, another some wine and Karen began to pass round a bottle of vodka. The joint also began to make its rounds; Kirsten passed it over, thankful when no one commented on her refusal.

The next hour or so was spent eating, drinking, talking and drinking some more. Kirsten was relieved to find most of Sandy's friends weren't as scary as they looked even if some of the things they said made her feel like a naive freshman who had never thought about anything seriously. Which she probably hadn't, but it wasn't exactly self-esteem building. Ah well, she had Sandy's encouraging smiles for that.

'A toast,' someone declared drunkenly a little while later, getting gingerly to their feet and staring at their glass intently as they swayed slightly. 'A t-toast to the highly sssuccessssful return of the Headlights!'

'The Headlights,' everyone chorused, clinking bottles, glasses and plastic cups.

'And to one hell of a cast,' Sandy added. That prompted another toast.

Sandy's best mate, Paul, appeared to be considering standing up but thought better of it, simply raising his cup to the centre of the circle, 'To our esssteemed director Ss-a-andy Co-o-hen, may you drive us all crazy again in the future.'

'To Sandy!' Everyone knocked back another gulp of their poison of choice.

Sandy laughed, taking a drag on the joint. 'Thank you, thank you. Now I would get up and make a speech but quite frankly I don't have the fucking energy…'

'Thank God!'

'Oy! Anyway, as I was saying, instead of a speech I simply propose another toast; 'To Paul, my joint MC and Ben our techie.'

'Ben, your turn,' Sandy insisted once all the glasses had been re-filled.

'To Karen, for being both artistic director and my girlfriend.'

Everyone laughed and the toasts continued round the circle, Karen toasted Mike for doing the heavy lifting, he toasted Clare of wardrobe, Clare toasted Vic her assistant, Vic toasted the band; James, Pierce, Helen, Matt, Lisa and Joaquin (in his absence) who in turn collectively toasted Rosie the musical director.

Rosie stood up, smiling wickedly. 'To Kirsten, for a really _excellent_ performance; it certainly caught Sandy's eye.'

There was an intensely awkward moment and it was obvious that most people were trying to figure out exactly what part Kirsten had played in the production. She felt herself going red. Sandy glanced at her apologetically; this obviously wasn't the type of drunken compliment he'd joked about her receiving.

Just as Kirsten was wishing she'd never come Paul caused a diversion by falling off his chair.

Sandy had never been so grateful to his best-friend.

The crowd erupted into loud guffaws as they scrambled to see if he was okay.

'Passed out,' Ben said, looking at Sandy.

'I don't doubt it,' Sandy was quick to add. 'He was wasted from the interval and then he had the nerve to tell everyone the wrong notes were _my_ fault!'

'Let's get him outside,' someone said, 'he'll most likely puke as soon as he comes round.'

Watching the boys lug Paul towards the door Kirsten could almost swear she saw him open his eyes and wink at her, the next minute he just looked motionless. She felt a hand on her arm. It was Karen.

'You want to come fetch him some water?'

Rosie seemed to have disappeared in the general melee.

'Sure.'

'Don't take any notice of Rosie,' Karen said as they picked their way through the mess of the kitchen.

'I just feel like I shouldn't be here.'

'Aw honey, don't be stupid…hey!' Karen broke off her comforting speech to shove a canoodling couple off the counter next to the sink. 'Go get a room.' She began to rifle through the cupboards for a clean glass, 'Rosie just loves to give Sandy's girls a hard time.'

'I'm not, Sandy's girl or anything, I mean, we just met.'

'But you like him.'

Kirsten traced the pattern on the lino with her toe. 'Ye-ah,' she admitted quietly.

'Well, he likes you too.' Karen smiled as she noticed the younger girl's uncertain expression. 'He was a nervous wreck before you turned up. I'd be surprised if he doesn't have a crick in his neck he kept craning over everyone's head to look at the door so much. Plus, Rosie wouldn't have been so beastly if she didn't think he was serious.'

'Is…is she…'

'Jealous? Nah, that's just Rosie for you.'

Kirsten followed Karen to the garden where they found Sandy, Paul and Ben laid out on the grass laughing.

'I take it you don't need this then,' Karen said, proffering the glass of water threateningly.

'Aw babe you didn't really think Paul had fainted did you.'

She glared at the three of them.

'Give me a little more credit,' Paul muttered.

Ben was still chortling and Karen grabbed his hand and hauled him off. Sandy turned to Kirsten, 'Kirsten this is Paul, Paul this is Kirsten.'

'Hi Kirsten.'

'Hi, thanks for…'

'Pretending to pass out? My pleasure. So what part _did_ you play in the production, apart from being accosted by Sandy?'

Kirsten blushed. 'I was…uh…in the audience!'

'Ah, particularly important, a necessity in fact,' Paul said seriously. 'No audience, no laughter…well, except for Sandy laughing at his own jokes. Did you enjoy the show?'

'Yeah I'm really glad my roommate dragged me out tonight!'

Paul chuckled but Kirsten didn't feel uncomfortable. She was happy that not all of Sandy's friends had the power to make her feel about two inches tall.

'Well I'd best be off,' Paul declared. 'I have to get up and study tomorrow.'

'See ya man.'

'Bye Paul.'

'Nice meeting you Kirsten,' Paul hollered from the sidewalk. 'And Sandy, I was not wasted. _You_ were the one singing the wrong notes.'

Sandy harrumphed, making Kirsten laugh. 'That guy wouldn't know good vocals if they hit him in the face.'

'Well I thought your singing was very good.'

'Oh you did, did you? You obviously have a good ear.'

Kirsten laughed and then shivered.

'Are you cold?' Sandy asked in disbelief. 'It's about fifty degrees out here.'

'That's cold for California.'

'Fifty degrees in December! I'm still not used to it yet,' Sandy told her. 'Back in New York right now it's probably about minus five.'

She shivered again. 'You live in New York?'

'Used to. How about we head back inside?'

Kirsten wanted to ask more but the shortness of his tone stopped her. She nodded, smiling to herself as Sandy slid his arm around her waist and propelled her back into the house.

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Do you like Paul? Aw bless him. Please review!

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	6. Chapter 6

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer:** I once snorted washing powder…by accident. I now hate doing laundry. Oh, sorry, thought this was my therapist's office. C'est le mien, toute mine. Mon précieux. Nah. Je couche

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This chapter is for Tinie because we also need to catch up sometime. I haven't heard about hydromechanics for a while! hugs

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Sandy threw himself back down onto the sofa, looking shifty as it groaned ominously. He reached up and caught Kirsten's hand, trying to pull her down to join him. She resisted for a moment but the mix of drinks had made her a little unsteady on her feet and she pitched forward with a shriek and landed beside him. The couch protested again and they both laughed. Sandy realised he still had hold of her hand. A second later he decided that he really didn't want to let it go. He quickly cast about for a subject in the hope of distracting her.

'So, uh, what are you thinking of majoring in?'

'It's complicated.'

'Complicated how?'

'Well my dad wanted me to go to Ivy League; specifically Harvard, Yale or Princeton.'

'But you didn't get in?'

'No, I mean, yes, I did get in.'

'To all of them?'

'Yeah.'

Wow, he thought. This girl was smart. Too smart to be sat here talking to him. 'So…um, why did you come to Berkeley?' he asked the obvious question.

'I didn't want to go to any of those schools,' she said simply. 'I wanted to go somewhere different.'

'Different? And you came here? Berkeley is pretty normal as far as college goes.'

'But it's UC.'

'…Yeah.'

'It's public school. It has real people.'

He laughed uncertainly. He didn't understand, Kirsten reflected sadly, no one did.

Sandy watched her face and knew she thought he wasn't interested. 'And Harvard doesn't have real people just because it's private?'

She sighed, 'I guess it does but…there would be a lot of people like me.'

'What, intelligent, beautiful people?' he asked. Kirsten, liking the fact he'd put 'intelligent' first, blushed at the compliments.

'Rich people. Kids who group up in a world like mine; one that's sheltered, comfortable, and apparently perfect. Everything is fake where I come from…except the designer gear and the suntans. The people…I can't explain it Sandy. I just don't want to be one of them.'

'You don't seem like it.'

'I try.'

'And we still haven't found an answer to the question!'

'I did say it was complicated.'

'You did, but I don't see how choosing between Brown and Berkeley affects your major that much.'

'My dad wasn't happy. He didn't want me to go here, didn't want me to take the classes I'm taking.'

'Ah,'

'He wanted me to do a straight business degree at an Ivy League Business School.'

'Shows he cares about your future,' Sandy said quietly, thinking of the father who had walked out on him.

'He cares too much,' Kirsten protested, registering the sudden change in the man next to here and wondering whether to ask about it, the shuttered expression on his face stopping her, at least for now. 'Trying to run my life is not caring. I've done everything he ever wanted and as soon as there's something _I _want to do he's totally against it. He hates the idea of me doing art.'

'Maybe it's not the most secure career path but if it's what you want he should respect that.'

'Caleb Nichol respects himself and that's it. You see, he built up this empire, a huge business; it's called the Newport Group. These days it has a finger in every real-estate pie in Orange County; residential, commercial, industrial…he wants me to work there, take over as CEO after him…'

'And you don't want to?'

'No. I-,' she stopped, flushing slightly.

'You…? What do you want?'

'I-want-to-own-a-gallery,' Kirsten garbled, surprised that she was sharing her secret dream with someone she barely knew. Maybe that was why. Or maybe it was the way Sandy made her feel; safe, confident; as if she could say and do anything. She trusted him although he was little more than a stranger, perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was just the alcohol making her talk so freely, she didn't know. But she did know she was more than a little bit in love with this guy already.

'So basically he only grudgingly agreed to my coming here if I at least did Business, Economics and Graphics. He pays tuition but other wise he cut me off. It's better that way though,' she mused, 'I didn't want his trust fund anyway.'

She had a trust fund? He didn't think he knew anyone who had one of those and certainly no one, who if they had, would willingly give it up.

Kirsten suddenly felt she was talking too much, 'What about you?' she asked, 'You're at Law School right?'

'Yeah, Berkeley Law is at Boalt Hall. I did Legal studies here first though and now I'm majoring in Social Justice/Public Interest, I, uh…want to be a public defender,' he told her. 'I believe in justice and equality before the law. It's so hard to find but I still want to pursue it, share it, force it on this country if I can. It's meant to exist; it's a constitutional right but so many people are denied it.'

He was impressive, blatantly intelligent, driven. The passion he felt for his subject was obvious, his blue eyes bright yet serious, his hands waving excitedly as he talked. He spoke about his mom and her social work in the Bronx, the kids he'd met on the streets, the work he'd done as an intern in the summer in the Berkeley PD's office and Kirsten just listened, almost in awe. He was so straight and honest; there was a downright desire to do good, to help people. There weren't people like this in Newport. Newport. God she was embarrassed about where she came from, the realisation that she was incredibly privileged in so many ways that she hadn't even thought about before.

Sandy suddenly noticed Kirsten was looking uncomfortable, at first she'd listened raptly but now something was off. 'Are you ok?' he asked, mid-way through a story about one of his professors. 'I'm sorry, I have a really bad habit of rambling on and not letting anyone get a word in edgeways, you've just got to interrupt me.'

She laughed at that, 'No I'm fine and it was interesting, honest.'

He wasn't quite sure whether to believe her.

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This was a bit I wrote really early on. It's quite funny posting it now! Please review!

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	7. Chapter 7

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer:** I've been invited for drink with my MP aren't I special lol! Ah wrong time and place again… Plaag liefde mij en hij gaf aan mij de OC...in een droom die ik vorige donderdag had.

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This is for my cat who is missing. Is it odd to give her a chapter? I don't care. I miss her and my pony more than I'd miss some people! When she gets home she is gonna be grounded. I'll yell VICTORIA EZEKIEL GO TO YOUR BASKET!

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Fortunately they were saved from an awkward moment by Rosie appearing and beckoning Sandy. He mouthed, 'Later,' at her but she wasn't taking that for an answer, her glare plainly saying 'Now, or else.'   
Sandy sighed and looked apologetically at Kirsten.

'Go,' she said, 'it's fine.'

'I'm sorry. I'll be right back.'

Somehow Kirsten doubted that but she smiled anyway to mask her disappointment and watched Rosie haul Sandy roughly round the corner and out of sight. Out of sight but not out of hearing. Kirsten was surprised to find herself able to hear their conversation amidst the music and rowdy crowd. She didn't like to listen in but somehow she couldn't resist.

'Sandy,' Rosie hissed. 'What are you doing?'

'What?'

'That girl.'

'Kirsten?'

'Yes. Her.'

'What's wrong with her?'

There was the sound of a hand swiping at a head and an exclamation from Sandy.

'What was that for?'

'You're a fool Sanford Cohen. That sort of girl eats guys like you for breakfast.'

'Huh?'

'Don't play stupid. She's a class-A Sou-Cal girl; incredibly wealthy looking for a bit of fun with a bit of rough.'

'Oh please Rosie when are you gonna get over your prejudice against California girls? They aren't all like that. Kirsten certainly isn't.'

'Humph. I'm just warning you. I don't want you getting hurt.'

'Kirsten wouldn't hurt a fly.'

'Mmmhmm?'

'OK, maybe that's an exaggeration but…I played it safe before and I still got hurt didn't I?'

'And who helped you get over Rebecca? Don't make me do that again.'

'I know and I'm grateful but…I like her okay? And she doesn't appear to find me utterly repulsive so…I haven't felt like this for a…_very_, long, time so can you _please_ let up on the cold-shoulder?'

'Fine but don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart all; I'll say is 'I told you so'.'

'Thanks Rosie, that's very comforting.'

The girl snorted and Kirsten could hear receding footsteps. Sandy didn't appear to have moved. She could imagine him, watching his friend walk away and debating whether to come back to her. Maybe she should just leave now, save herself the embarrassment of sitting here alone any longer.

---

Kirsten was plucking up the courage to stand up and try to find her way out without tripping over an empty bottle, being puked on or accosted by someone who had smoked one bong too many when Sandy eased himself back down beside her.

'Maybe I should go,' she mumbled before he could speak.

'Why? Kirsten no, it's okay.'

'I get the impression Rosie doesn't really like me…at all.'

He sighed. 'You heard that huh?'

She nodded.

'Look it's not what you think. Rosie is a really good friend; she looks out for me.'

'And don't you think there's an underlying reason for that?'

'Because she's a _friend_. Honestly Kirsten, we tried but…no.'

'She has something over you though.'

Sandy ran a hand over his face. 'I didn't want to get into this but…. she's…got me through some real hard times…'

'Rebecca?'

'Yeah. She was my fiancée…something happened and she left. Just left. No hints, no note, no goodbye, just gone.' His voice was hard, even in tone, but Kirsten could see it was an effort and felt suddenly guilty for questioning him.

'Sorry, you don't have to do this,' she whispered, sliding her hand into his. He curled his fingers round it. 'It's fine. I was messed up after she left and Rosie was just, there. Admittedly our friendship began with…uh…how can say this…'

'Sympathy shag?'

He coughed, embarrassed, 'Ye-ah. But after that she knew there was something wrong and she offered her shoulder to cry on. She let me mope and then made me get on with life, told me to buck up and get my act together. Took me a while but she kept me going…I haven't dated much since…and she's just, protective I guess. Doesn't want me to get hurt.'

'That's really sweet but I'm not planning on hurting you.'

'Thanks. I'm not planning on hurting you either.'

Kirsten smiled teasingly, 'So you think I don't find you utterly repulsive huh?'

'You really were eavesdropping,' Sandy exclaimed before suddenly becoming serious. 'So do you?'

'Find you utterly repulsive? Hmm.' Kirsten put a finger to her lips and pretended to think about it. She thought about it so long Sandy began to squirm.

'Well?' He asked, edging closer.

'Mmm.'

'Hey?' he leant in so his eyes were level with her dancing ones. 'Are you gonna give me an answer or not?'

But Kirsten wasn't thinking about her answer because she had suddenly discovered how mesmerising his eyes were up close.

Sandy gently tugged her hand from her mouth. 'If you don't tell me in the next ten seconds I'm gonna take it as a no and kiss you.'

He saw the edges of her eyes crinkle in a smile two seconds before he felt her lips on his.

Definitely a no.

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They kissed! Do you love me? Share the love. Please review!

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	8. Chapter 8

Rabbit in the Headlights

**Disclaimer: **Do I freak anyone out with my disclaimers? Oh well. Why stop now? 油浸餅是足夠每個人有一個簿片即使你不擁有餅！以及是啊我講漢語！

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This chapter is for whoever you want it to be for because this chapter is whatever you want it to be and whoever you want it to be!

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They kissed for a moment before Kirsten broke away, her eyes flitting nervously to meet his and then looking away again.  
Best take it slow, Sandy mused, leaning to press a reassuring response of a kiss to her lips before sitting back. 'So…' he said, slowly bringing his arm to rest around Kirsten's shoulder, 'I told you about the mess of my previous love life. What happened with this guy of yours then?'

Kirsten paused. Way to break the mood. 'I don't really want to talk about it right now.'

'Better now than never huh? Why not tell me now and then it's over?'

Sandy saw the look that passed across her face and felt her withdraw slightly. Damn, he shouldn't have got so pushy. 'I-I didn't mean to be insensitive,' he gabbled guiltily, 'I'm sorry. It doesn't matter.'

She gave him a weak smile. 'It's okay.' Maybe he was right, she mused, why not now instead of later? Later? What sort of later was she thinking of? She pushed the thought away. 'Um…Jimmy and I dated all through high school and then through the beginning of college. He's at USC. We only managed the long-distance thing for three weeks. At that point he had his first soccer game, they won, he got completely wasted and slept with a skank from Riverside. Of course_ I_ didn't know that. _I _didn't know _anything_ until he calls and tells me he can't come visit; he's sorry but the skank's pregnant and oh by the way, they're getting married.' Kirsten finished her rant in one long breath and swallowed embarrassedly in the silence that followed, 'It's funny, everyone, myself included I guess, always thought Jimmy and I would get married.'

'You okay?'

She nodded. 'I am now. They deserve each other.'

'He's a fool. I hope he knows how much he's lost.'

Kirsten blushed but a moment later she wasn't thinking about Jimmy because Sandy was kissing her again. Soft, tentative kisses at first, becoming hungrier as she responded in kind. Somehow her arms found their way about his neck and then her fingers into his hair whilst his hands separated, one sliding to the small of her back, the other cupping her face. She tilted her head slightly, smiling as Sandy looped round and caught her lips again, his tongue hesitating there until she tangled her own with it, deepening the kiss.

---

The conversation had trailed off quite naturally as the making-out took precedence but in the early hours even that had subsided, at least for the moment. The pair were lounging on the couch, lazily watching the people around them. The crowds had dispersed somewhat, either upstairs or elsewhere, but there were still a couple of guys playing cards in the corner. Their shouts of victory or defeat sometimes causing plastic cups to be thrown in their direction by one of the comatose forms lying around but otherwise it was pretty quiet. Kirsten could feel Sandy's fingers running through her hair; the cyclic movement making her feel drowsy, or maybe that was the alcohol. She let her head drop onto his shoulder.

---

Sandy woke to the scent of peaches, the feel of soft hair against his face and one hell of a crick in his neck. That was from the rickety old sofa they'd fallen asleep on. The hair was Kirsten's, the smell of peaches from her shampoo, somehow still potent amidst the alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Her head lay on his shoulder, his resting against it. She stirred against the arm that was around her, tracing over his hand with her fingers.

'It's Sandy,' he said gently and heard her laugh.

She lifted her head from his chest and smiled. 'I know who it is.'

Sandy thought he was about to pass out. The beautiful girl with the starry blue eyes was lying against his chest saying she knew his name rather than making her hurried excuses and rushing away swearing never to drink again.

Kirsten sat up and stretched and he felt his heart leap to his mouth. Here it came; the apology, the sad smile, the empty promise to 'see you around'.

But it never came; Kirsten simply flopped back down against the sofa, no longer lying against him but still pressed up close.

Perhaps she was still a bit drunk.

If so he was going to damn well prolong their goodbyes. 'You…uh…wanna grab some breakfast? We'd probably have to go to Denny's or somewhere; the only breakfast around here will be a liquid one.'

Kirsten chuckled then hesitated, holding her breath. Suddenly she was unsure. 'I should, really go home…take a shower.'

He tried to mask his disappointment, 'Ok, me too I guess! Maybe some other time.'

'I just, don't quite want to go out looking like this.'

'Like what?'

'I look a mess.'

'You _look_ beautiful.'

She blushed, knowing she didn't; tousled hair, kissed-off lipstick and smudged mascara. And he was still complimenting her. She hated regretting things and almost without realising it she blurted out, 'How about we make it lunch? Don't know if I could stomach anything right now but…'

'Bad head?'

'A little, but nothing a hot shower and coffee won't fix.'

'Lunch it is then.'

---

Lunch lasted from twelve till five at which point Kirsten nearly fell asleep at the table and Sandy insisted they both head home and crash. She agreed, on one condition; they got to see each other tomorrow.

Sandy readily agreed.

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Oh dear, this is gonna be another story I'm gonna get bugged into continuing I can tell! No. Please! I can't. I beg for mercy. Seriously, I have another Berkeley-Kandy fic that's gonna be a big one and I've started continuing Tolliver's Class, what more do you want you vultures? Nah, only joking. I love all you guys who read and especially those who review!


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